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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615140">Stories of Thedas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lith_Ithilwa/pseuds/Lith_Ithilwa'>Lith_Ithilwa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - AU Timeline, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:28:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lith_Ithilwa/pseuds/Lith_Ithilwa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a serie of chapters forTalviiiii's January Daily Prompts: <a href="https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19">twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19</a>.</p><p>A prior incident with darkspawns has left Aoife with strange recurring bad dreams...<br/>I don't have an exact date for this story yet, but it happens around 9:33-9:34 Dragon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alistair/Aoife, HOF/Cullen, Neranka/Cullen, Sheava/Anders</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bad Dreams (Jan. 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>NOTE:</b> Reading this series might give away some spoilers for my main fic, "In Between Worlds" - which I swear will be out someday :*)  I'm actively working on it, I have a decent first draft done. :)<br/>If you don't mind knowing what the characters are up to following the fic, then you should be ok to read most of these. I'll indicate in the notes those that have bigger spoilers.</p><p>This work is part of a daily prompt series from Talviiiii: <a href="https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19">https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alistair woke up as he felt Aoife tossing around in her sleep again. She’s been doing that more and more lately, and it worried him. Could it be an after-effect of their recent incident with the darkspawn? She seemed to have made a whole recovery. It was a miracle, really. No one who got infected with the Taint ever got over the sickness. The memory of her trashing in her cot, feverish and delusional, was painful. The healers had been doing their best, but it was not enough. He had lost hope, and had simply held her as she slowly slipped away.</p><p>And then, she had recovered. As quickly as she had collapsed into a fretful coma, she woke and became Aoife again. Weak, but disease free. It seemed the protective light magic inside her repelled the Taint, overcoming it’s putrid darkness.</p><p>He placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her agitation. What if it was coming back?<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em><br/>
Aoife. Come to me. </em>
</p><p>No. No, she would not.</p><p>
  <em> I know you can hear me. I want to talk to you. </em>
</p><p>No, she couldn’t! La la la...</p><p><em> Stop resisting. Come to me. It will be worth your while </em>.</p><p>“NO! Leave me alone!!”</p><p>Aoife turned in circles, trying to find the source of the voice. All she could see was darkness, with nothing for miles in any direction. She walked and walked through the void, never bumping into any walls, tables, or chairs... nothing. And all the while, the voice kept booming around her, tantalizing her, ever beckoning.</p><p>
  <em> Come to me, Aoife. </em>
</p><p>She would not go to it. Never! It was dark and sinister; she felt it through every cell in her body. <em> Do not go to the voice </em>, it told her. And yet, every night while she was asleep, the voice called. Spoke to her, coaxing her, slowly trying to convince her. And Aoife felt she was slowly losing the fight to resist.</p><p><em> No! </em> She stubbornly sat on the floor, squeezing her eyes shut, and covering her ears. It didn’t change anything, she could still feel it’s grasp inside her. What could it possibly want with her? Why was it permating her dreams like so, tormenting her?</p><p>
  <em> What if I told you there might be a way to reverse the Taint? Would you come? </em>
</p><p>That got her attention.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Alistair had been drifting back to sleep, an arm around Aoife’s waist, when she jolted awake. His eyes shot opened, and he propped himself on his elbow.</p><p>“Aoife, love?”</p><p>She turned her head around, her eyes still wild. He brushed some of her hair aside, noticing how damp it was.</p><p>“Love… you’re drenched.”</p><p>“I… I can’t… The dream… Voice…”</p><p>“Come here.”</p><p>He gently pulled her so she would turn around, and hugged her tight.</p><p>“Alistair… I can’t keep this up. I can’t get any feckin’ sleep with those bloody nightmares!”</p><p>“I know. wish I could make them go away.”</p><p>He continued to hold her tight, waiting for her to relax before closing his eyes again. He’d go speak with the potion maker tomorrow. Maybe they’d have something to help her sleep. He drifted off into an uneasy slumber himself.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Aoife relaxed, but never went back to sleep. The voice’s last words, ‘maybe there’s a way to reverse the Taint’, kept running in her mind on a loop. Was the disembodied voice even real? And if it was… wasn’t it worth heeding it? They’ve been looking for a Cure for so long… What if that was it? What if the answer was coming to her in a dream? She promised herself she would look into it. Anything was worth looking into when it came to finding a Cure. Even nightmares. Wishing for more hints, she closed her eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Come to me, Aoife. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Picnics (Jan. 4)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sheava is one stubborn elf, and she won't give up on finding Anders, even as he does his best to evade her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>NOTE:</b> Reading this series might give away some spoilers for my main fic, "In Between Worlds" - which I swear will be out someday :*) I'm actively working on it, I have a decent first draft done. :)<br/>If you don't mind knowing what the characters are up to following the fic, then you should be ok to read most of these. I'll indicate in the notes those that have bigger spoilers.</p><p>This work is part of a daily prompt series from Talviiiii: <a href="https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19">https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Come on… You can do this, little spark. I believe in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheava was crouched over a few branches, hitting the stone repeatedly and hoping for a spark. She could usually start a campfire blindfolded. Except that, today, it was pouring rain. She was sitting under a tree and had a patched tent set up, both of which provided her some shelter. But the air was so damp she might as well have been sitting right in the open. After a few more attempts, she gave up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fenedhis. I wish Anders was here, he could magic this fire up, and it wouldn’t even die out in the rain…” she mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slumped back against the tree, crossing her arms. She was in a sullen mood, and the current weather did nothing to help it. She had been looking for her lover for over a year now, with no signs of him nor trails to follow. The guy was good. He knew that Sheava was an excellent scout and tracker; if she hadn’t found him yet, it was because he didn’t want to be found.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheava looked over at the rabbit she had caught for dinner. “You’ll go bad if I don’t cook you soon,” she said. “Anders would have cooked you. I wouldn’t have killed you for nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes, offering a little prayer to Andruil and asking for forgiveness. In her mind, visions of picnics on a nice blanket, on a warm and sunny day, flashed in quick successions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would have liked Anders,” she told the rabbit, keeping her eyes closed. “He was sweet, caring, and funny... This is a poor substitute to the nice picnics we use to share. You would have been happier at those ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, as much as a rabbit that just died for dinner could be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hard to drag him out of his clinic, I’ll admit that. But when I did… his disposition changed drastically. He was happy again, light-hearted. We would joke around, cuddle… I miss his cuddles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought about the last time they spoke, just before he left on that fateful last mission of his. She knew he was planning something big, but he wouldn’t tell her what. ‘For your protection’, he used to say. She should have seen the signs coming. He left for her protection, too. So she wouldn’t need to be on the run as well, he wrote in his note. But she wouldn’t have minded. It’s not like she’s never been on the run, being a Dalish elf that couldn’t stay in one spot for too long less the shems gave the clan trouble. And when had she not supported him? He should have trusted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Annelise had known all along, helped him even. Why didn’t he let her help? She would’ve. Exploding a Chantry wasn’t on her Top 10 list of things she condoned, but she understood what he was trying to do. He had tried for so many years prior with little to no success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought that Annelise was with him maddened her. She clenched her fists in a ball, trying to contain her anger. She never liked Annelise. Brash, easy to anger, borderline mean. Sure, she and Anders shared similar views, but while he was trying to avoid the inevitable, she strived for it. Sheava worried what she might be doing at the moment. Would she backstab him? If the Templars zoned in on them, would she throw him under the cart to save her hide, ignoring his?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate her…” she whispered to the rabbit. “I hate her because she’s mean, I hate her because she doesn’t care about anyone but herself, I hate her because… because she’s with him and I’m not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think anything ever happened between them. At least, not until now. But Sheava wasn't with Anders anymore, not technically… The thought of losing Anders to that bitch made tears roll down her cheek. She opened her eyes to wipe her eyes. The rain had let down some, so she tried to start the fire again. This time it worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally…” She looked at the rabbit and picked it up. “Sorry, little one. I need to prepare you now. I wish I could have shared you with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was one picnic she’d sadly have to eat alone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Artist (Jan. 5)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aoife's sketchbook is her diary. In it, her feelings are laid bare... And she's not the only one who uses them in such a way ;)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>NOTE:</b> Reading this series might give away some spoilers for my main fic, "In Between Worlds" - which I swear will be out someday :*) I'm actively working on it, I have a decent first draft done. :)<br/>If you don't mind knowing what the characters are up to following the fic, then you should be ok to read most of these. I'll indicate in the notes those that have bigger spoilers.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>This is a slightly bigger spoiler.</b></p><p> </p><p>This work is part of a daily prompt series from Talviiiii: <a href="https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19">https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alistair entered the room where Aoife laid after the dreaded battle with the archdemon. It had been two days, and she still hadn’t woken up. His worry over her health currently overcame his hurt at her leaving and coming back so suddenly, but he knew they’d need to have a discussion about that once she was awake. And truth be told, he didn’t know what he would say. Part of him felt like his prayers had been answered, but another part couldn’t ignore the fact she broke his heart. The betrayal he felt was so keen, so raw, he didn’t even know if he could forgive her, despite dearly wanting to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat by the bed, watching her sleep as he softly pushed curls out of her eyes, just like he’s done so many times before. Her face was as angelic as ever, peacefully sleeping as if on a lazy morning. He half-expected her to wake up, smiling at him, and then he’d pull her close… He inhaled sharply and moved his hand away. What if this was all just wishful thinking? Maybe she simply came back to save them, and was planning to leave once it was done. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it if she did. He might as well go for an early Calling, say he was hearing voices and blame it on the Blight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stirred, just ever so slightly. Alistair’s attention immediately snapped to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aoife? It’s Alistair. Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t move further. She remained in deep slumber, her chest rising rhythmically as she breathed in and out. Her skin, naturally fair, looked even paler than usual, her flushed cheeks the only touch of color. He placed a hand on her forehead. Still hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slumped back in his chair, at a loss. His eyes drifted to the nightstand, onto which her shoulder pack had been laid. A sketchbook was poking through. He snorted with a smirk. Of course she would bring her sketchbook even to a fight with a dragon. He reached for it, hesitating for a moment as to whether he should really be looking at it. It was a diary of sorts for her, perhaps he should leave it alone? But his curiosity won. He wanted to see what she added to it while she was gone. It’s not like she didn’t show him everything she drew in there anyway, he reasoned to himself. So surely, there was no harm in looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened it around the middle. He recognized those drawings. She had made them shortly before leaving - many of them were of Orzammar. Architecture, lava pools, portraits of a few dwarves they befriended. He smiled, bittersweet, passing light fingers on the page. If only he had known those would be some of the last sketches of hers he’d see. He flipped a few pages ahead, landing on a few landscapes of Ireland. He recognized them from his time there with her. This one was of the big cliff she brought him to visit! They had to go there in that dreaded metal cart that moved at an insane speed, without any horses to boot. He had hated every single minute in that contraption. But, he had to admit, the sight had been well worth the heart-attacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped a few more pages ahead, and suddenly his breath caught. It was a portrait of him, but not one he had seen before. A new one. He flipped to another page. Another portrait. And another, and another. Different angles, different expressions, but all of him. There were dozens of them. All those months she was away, he realized, she kept sketching him in her diary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his eyes to look at her once more. She regretted going back, he thought. She missed him... Yet, she hadn’t come back here, had she? Maybe… Maybe it was because she wasn’t able to? He remembered how hard it had been to open the door back here when they had been in her world. Except part of him also knew that she very well could open them, considering all the back and forth she had done so far. He looked at the sketchbook again. But surely if she drew him so much, it was because she still had feelings for him...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, and placed the book back beside her bag. It was no use fretting about this right now. When she awoke, then he could see. They’d talk, and he would hopefully have a better idea of what he wanted to do. Until then… Well, he hoped she would be okay.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>Many years later…</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Little Rosie was sitting at the kitchen counter while her mama cleaned up after the breakfast rush, her tiny tongue sticking out to the side. She was completely engrossed in her activity, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around her.</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What are ye drawing, sweetie?” Aoife said, peeking over her shoulder and making the little girl jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama! You’ll make me draw crooked!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aoife laughed. “I’m sorry, love. Come, I’m finished for the day. Let’s go sit outside and ye can show me yer drawings, aye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose hopped off her stool and ran out toward the garden. At eight years old, she had taken on her mother’s passion for art, and the two of them could often be found sketching away in companionable silence. Aoife absolutely loved teaching her daughter, giving her pointers and tips. She smiled and followed, curious at what she had been working on today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they sat at a table outside, Rose opened her book and slid it to Aoife. “It’s Grandma Murphy,” she said proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that is her! It’s lovely, ye did a very good job, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, mama! I don’t want to forget how she looks, so I draw her every day. See?” She flipped through some pages, showing all the lovely drawings she had made of her surrogate grand-mother. “I miss her so much when we’re here...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aoife smiled softly. “I know, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t we go more often?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Fade is dangerous, sweetie. Ye know I don’t like bringing ye and yer brother in there too often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… Well, until then, I’ll keep making portraits. And I can show them to her next time we go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aoife smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be very pleased. She’ll find your drawings lovely. Here, do you want some tips?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes please!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Remembrance (Jan. 6)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Neranka spends a moment back home, talking to her parents by their commemorative statue. She has special news for them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>NOTE:</b> Reading this series might give away some spoilers for my main fic, "In Between Worlds" - which I swear will be out someday :*) I'm actively working on it, I have a decent first draft done. :)<br/>If you don't mind knowing what the characters are up to following the fic, then you should be ok to read most of these. I'll indicate in the notes those that have bigger spoilers.</p><p>This work is part of a daily prompt series from Talviiiii: <a href="https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19">https://twitter.com/Talviiiii/status/1338951051119046663?s=19</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The morning air in Highever was brisk. A slow breeze tussled Neranka’s hair, and she absentmindedly tucked a few strands back behind her ear. She reached for the markings of the statue in front of her, softly brushing her fingers over them, before sitting down on the stone bench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Mother and Father. I don’t come here often enough. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, taking a moment to feel the connection with her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skyhold is a nice enough place. Cold, but comfortable. You might have liked to visit it. Fergus takes good care of the Castle. Much better than I would have, I’m sure.” She chuckled. “Who would have ever thought I’d be the Commanding Officer and Fergus the head of the Estate. Funny, how life is sometimes, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned back, stretching to ease some pain in her lower back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder, sometimes, if you would have been proud of who I became. I know that I never learned the lady arts you hoped to teach me, Mother. At times, I wish I had. If anything, it would have allowed us to spend some time together. I feel like we didn’t do enough of that… If only I had known…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed in deeply, fighting back the tears that inevitably always came at times like these. Her current state didn’t help the strong emotions either. She gazed down at her now prominent belly, rubbing a hand over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve big news this time,” she said with a smile. “I’m with child. It’s a miracle, really. Grey Wardens have a very hard time conceiving. I feel immensely blessed… But oh! I so wish I could have shared this moment with you! The babe would have adored you two, I just know it. Just as I know you would have dotted on him or her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised a hand to wipe tears on the edge of her eyes. Once delicate, it now barred the signs of many years of battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that I do you proud raising the child, just like I hope I did you proud in my years fighting off the darkspawn. I’ll do my best to give this little one a good life, before I’m called away.” She sighed. “There’s a Cure now, did you know? But I didn’t take it; my duties come first. You raised me well in that regard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth was, however, that she was now hesitating on whether she should take it or not. Alistair had after all, for the sake of his family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alistair and Cullen both say I should take it. They respect my decision, of course, but I see it in their eyes. Mother... I wish you were here,” she said, her voice catching. “You would have known what to do, mother to mother. This… This is so new, and scary. Will I be a good mother? I’m good at directing troops… but what about motherhood? I… I hope…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be wonderful, darling,” a voice behind her said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neranka turned to see Cullen sitting down next to her. “I’m not worried,” he continued. “And neither should you be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Positive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neranka smiled at him, before turning back to the statue honoring the memory of her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They would have loved you, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to think so... even if I’m not a noble with titles and land...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neranka shook her head. “You make me happy. That would have been enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m glad to hear that,” he said, smiling back at her. “You make me happy, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there in companionable silence for some time, gazing at the statue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In remembrance of the brave and honorable Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, who gave their life defending this Castle,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the engraving said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cullen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, darling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this baby is a girl, I would very much like to name her Eleanor. And if it’s a boy, then Bryce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cullen smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, gently guiding her head to rest on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I think those would make very fine names.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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